


Is Bruce Wayne dating Gotham's Vigilante? Exclusive Interview Inside.

by yoshitakamine



Category: DC - Fandom, DC Animated Universe, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Crushes, Identity Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 08:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9811946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshitakamine/pseuds/yoshitakamine
Summary: Bruce really needs to keep nosy reporters off his back and Clark just so happened to have said the right thing at the right time. In which Bruce needs for the Man of Steel and best friend, to pretend to be his crime fighting alter-ego for the sake of his secret identity. Did I mention they are also supposedly in cahoots?





	

“So Mr. Wayne are the rumors _true_? Are you secretly dating Batman?” the lively reported had asked him, voice laced with intent.

Bruce had to suppress a chuckle at the time. It wasn’t every day you got to be allegedly involved with yourself. What an honor that’d be.

While musing over the pros and cons of a relationship like that, he brought Clark’s voice to mind. _‘Barry thought it’d be fun to do a costume swap for halloween. What do you think?’_ How could he say no to an already formulated plan? Besides, this would keep the gossip at bay, and he could break up with the caped crusader any day he damn wanted. He was Bruce Wayne after all, everything bent to his will.

“I am. Although not so much of a secret anymore, is it?” he flashed her a toothy grin.

All work and no fun makes a man dull, and he decided it was time for Superman to admit to owing him for all those lost bets placed in the Watchtower’s control room. How many asteroids could he possibly predict would hit nearby chunks of rocks and minerals? A _super man yes_ but not an astrophysicist. Sightings of asteroids entering _their_ side of thermosphere were rare, and that’s what Bruce had based his bets on really. It was easier to have the League believe Batman was interested in asteroid-watching and was therefore _boring_ , than humor them all in any other way.

                                                                           

* * *

 

 

“You want me to do _what_?” Bruce could practically hear Clark’s jaw dropping from the other end of the line, but continued nonetheless.

“Pretend you’re Batman and make the occasional appearance with me in public. A completely controlled setting, I assure you.” He explained, Clark not knowing if the exasperated tone in his voice was purely sarcasm or if he was really asking for it this time.

“Why? And how did this even- _You want me to pretend I’m your boyfriend?_ _Dressed up as Batman?_ ”

“Essentially, that’s what I’m asking, yes.”

“Bruce.” He paused, composing himself “There are things I _am_ willing to do for friends. Indulging them in their …questionable preferences in bed though, is _definitely_ not one of them.”

Answering a call from Bruce in his personal number should have been the first sign, in retrospect. He’d always relocate calls from the Watchtower, anonymity, safety procedures and all that. But no, this Sunday night _had_ to be special, had to break virtually every single established rule.

“How about all those bets you lost-“ He got cut off by another sigh coming from Clark.

“Bruce… me owing you something presupposes that _that something_ is of _equal_ value. You do understand you’re asking for too much right?”

Maybe Clark was right. Maybe he did need to present him with something that’d make his time playing pretend worthwhile. And the only thing he had in abundance was money truth be told.

“How about I pay you?” he insisted.

“Bruce I would never in a million years accept money from you. Can’t you just find someone else? I know a dozen of people out there would be willing to do anything and everything for Bruce Wayne.”

 _But no one would be quite like you_ , he wanted to add, but kept quiet. He had to admit, Clark invaded his thoughts more often than not, and that was -if not the only- reason he had suggested it in the first place. He’d be able to pull it off, a man of his stature and abilities, without raising suspicion of Bruce Wayne using a body double to delight in some weird leather/Bat fetish.

“I understand, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Clark could feel his heart drop, he wasn’t usually one to refuse him, but sometimes …the situation at hand would ask for it.

                                                                         

* * *

 

 

A few days later, and still no call from Bruce, so it was safe to assume he had dealt with his little problem.

_As if, Kent._

It was around nine in the morning when that fateful knock on his door would rouse him from his sleep, eyes barely open that early in the day.

Bruce Wayne, in all his glory, standing in his door step with a humongous bouquet of flowers. It was so big actually, that it covered half his face, two strikingly familiar blue eyes staring at him through roses, lilies and carnations.

So love, love and some more love. _Classy Mr. Wayne._

“Are you _not_ going to invite me in?”

 Clark considered it, his facial muscles holding up enough for a smile, and he opened the door as wide as he could. He closed it behind him, hurriedly going after Bruce, making sure he wouldn’t trip over discarded paperwork and unfinished drafts.

“So I take it, nothing worked out with.. “ he trailed off, trying to avoid Bruce’s piercing gaze that kept following him around the apartment.

“Very observant.” He commented dryly.

“No need to be rude Bruce, I was just wondering.”

Bruce sat down on the least preoccupied couch, gingerly even, and placed the arrangement of flowers on the coffee table in front of him. He looked awkward, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, feet and the remaining of his attention.

If he wasn’t there to somehow coax him into the whole act, Clark would’ve definitely considered serving his timid guest breakfast.

“So flowers-“ Clark flopped down next to him with a satisfied grunt “That was your grand plan for coming here?”

Bruce rolled his eyes, a twitching smirk escaping him. Clark was right, _this was a mistake_. “Yes and since this is getting us nowhere, it’s high time I took my leave.”

Clark was amused, extremely to add at that, and seeing Bruce go out his way to bring him flowers at 9 a.m in his meager apartment showed just how stubborn a Wayne could get.

“I’m sold.” He sipped on his coffee, relishing in the flavor of it before Bruce could drag him into what may as well be the adventure of a lifetime.

“Excuse me?” Bruce was in the middle of buttoning up his coat when he instinctively turned around to face him.

“I said I’m sold, I’ll do it. Hit me with the terms and guidelines.”

In this world you either Wayne or you lose, and Clark could never get himself to admit to a loss. He grabbed a cushion and patted down the couch, beckoning him to sit again.

They had spent an hour or so, discussing how to best deal with a fiasco Bruce himself had created. He, of course, never outright suggested that, but if a reporter is good at one thing, it’s reading between the lines. They watched the interview, well at least half of it, because Clark couldn’t bear to look at Bruce’s forced yet polished smiles every time he was asked about his love life in excruciating detail.

“No groping, or any other physical display of affection.” He had blurted out in the middle of a clip, and Bruce looked at him incredulously, like he expected further explanation. “I just know..you..you- can get touchy feely and I..”

“You do understand we have to make this look _as genuine as possible_ right?” He said, eyes still wide as ever. “If I’m just _seen_ with the _‘Batman’_ , what difference does it make?”

Clark looked considerably thoughtful at that, and eventually seemed to mimic a sound of resignation. “Fine.. try to act as detached as possible, if you can.”

“That was part of the plan yes-“ Bruce smiled, mischievously “or were you hoping for something else?”

“ _Bruce!_ ” The scandalized yelp that came out of Clark was sincerely rejuvenating and it made Bruce let out a soft chuckle.

“I’ll contact you when you’re needed. Just have to set the plan in motion first.”

And just like that, Bruce Wayne would come in and out of his life just as quickly, turning it upside down and making his heart skip a couple of several beats in the process.

                                                                                   

* * *

 

 

The batcave was always his least favorite place in all of the premises. It was humid and cold, and definitely not the place he should be trying on Bruce’s tight spandex suit. Had it not been for the invasion of reporters around the Manor, he would’ve loved for his butt to feel the gentle flames of one of the room’s fireplaces.

Instead, he had Bruce’s expert hands probing places no human should know about. Time to cross out the prospect of being a seamstress as a future career for him.

“ _Ow_!” he had complained at a rather indelicate shove from Bruce as he dragged the cape over his back.

“You did _not_ feel that.” He reprimanded wryly. “And stop acting like this is any more fun for me.”

Clark’s eyes roamed over him as he moved around the room to get the remaining of the equipment. He was dressed for the occasion, the tux hugging his silhouette tightly. His hair was gelled back with a single strand falling out of place that reminded him of _his_ everyday look.

“How is it any fair that I get to look like the darkness and dread of the night itself while you look-“ He hesitated, his cheeks tinted with pink “ _like that_.”

“Like _what_ , Kent? Please _do_ elaborate.” Bruce hadn’t looked up at him, but was adjusting something around his crotch area for the utility belt to snap onto.

 _‘Like an unattainable teenage daydream.’_ He whispered to himself, looking ahead and trying not to heave Bruce’s face away from his private parts. It wasn’t really the time to drool over his very single and eligible friend.

“Nothing. You just look better than me right now, that’s all.”

“I’ll have you know the suit’s aerodynamic shape is very appealing, _to me_ at least.” He got up, adjusting the cowl and requesting the computer to calibrate the retinal system with a monotonous voice.

“Do I really have to use the suit to its full capacity?” Clark sighed, his fingers prodding at the long pointy ears.

Bruce’s hand swatted the curious fingers away with a smooth motion, and huffed. “You’ll be linked up to the main framework that way. You’ll get to access information about previous missions and anything else should you need it.”

 Clark hated how clinical this whole conversation sounded. It was better having him in Metropolis with a bunch of flowers in his hands, trying his best to distract him from his breakfast. But then again, this was Bruce, and Bruce was quick to get to the point.

“I’ll meet you upstairs in ten. Remember what we discussed before?”

“Yes, yes.  Batman can’t fly, is not overpowered and does not smile ‘ _goofily_ ’.” Clark waved a hand dismissively, and tipped up the belt, pulling it slightly apart to test its durability.

Bruce gave him a nod, and disappeared in the cave’s elevator that lead to the main hall. This spelled disaster, but Clark was so far gone, he’d go along with anything that involved Bruce.

                                                                           

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later and Clark was sitting on top of the roof, a paper bag of home made scones -courtesy of Alfred, should he feel pinched- in his hands. If anything, it made the wait worthwhile.

Bruce was in the entranceway directly below him, throwing glances at his watch impatiently. Clark was supposed to be waiting for him there _five minutes ago_. And surprise, no large Kryptonian man to greet him with his presence. Because who needs plans! Improvisation is _in_ right now!

Clark on the other hand was stuffing himself with the contents of the bag, blissfully unaware of what was happening right under his nose. Literally. He had just assumed Bruce meant ten minutes _plus_ an absentminded whistle, or some other way for him to cue in.

He had thankfully made the mistake of moaning in delight at one particular strawberry-jam filled scone, and Bruce could feel the blood in his body boiling at the sound of the all too familiar voice coming from above him. He stepped out the porch, eyes trying to locate the large man who was hunched over a brown paper bag like a hungry rodent. It didn’t take him that long.

Clark had barely noticed Bruce staring at him from a distance, and immediately folded the bag in his hands, cramming it in one of the belt’s pouches. With a swift movement, he dropped to the ground as silently and gracefully as he could.

Bruce had to restrain himself from slapping him silly, after the countless hours of self-control he showed while explaining to him exactly _why_ humans can’t make a 50ft drop.

And as if that wasn’t enough, luck just had to prove it wasn’t always on his side. The previous horde of reporters had started to flock around the gates, some already rolling in their stories about how ‘ _Bruce Wayne was caught red-handed with his vigilante lover_ ’. At least Clark made for a convincing dupe.

“ _Is this the part where I kiss you?”_ Clark whispered in his ear, his hands snaking through his dress jacket, circling his waist. Bruce had never felt the leather of his gloves directly on his skin, the sensation was…chilling to say the least.

He hadn’t responded to Clark’s question, and so Clark took to just teasing him over his freshly ironed tux, making sure not to wrinkle the bow tie. The cowl’s tip would scratch his neck as Clark peppered chaste kisses over his burning skin. He’d bite and pull on it gently, making sure to kiss the areas afterwards.

Bruce was rigid for someone who had let himself at Clark’s mercy. His eyes were half lidded, turning his head to the side just enough to expose more of his neck for Clark, who was happy to oblige at his request.

“ _Slower._ ” was the first thing Bruce had uttered after half a minute of Clark ravishing different erogenous spots. “I was the one supposed to be touchy-feely.”

Clark smiled and kissed him, not bothering with muffling the loud moan that seeped through Bruce’s lips. This was one for the history books, Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire currently melting under the touch of formerly Metropolis journalist, now faux Batman. Formerly, he thought, because pretending to be Bruce’s lover would inevitably end up being his dream job.

Not trying to alert Bruce, Clark reached for the grapple in his right side and tried to aim it for a spot in the Manor’s walls that wouldn’t cost him his annual salary. Though it was hard juggling between that and holding his breath while tonguing his incipient lover, like two teenage boys in heat.

“ _Up we go.”_ Was the only word of warning Clark had the decency of providing him with, and Bruce found himself in the air before he could count to three. He was too dazed to even scowl at himself.

That was more of a show than Clark could’ve ever predicted for them or _hoped for_ , and he tried his best to obscure Bruce’s figure with the cape. The polymer was soft and light, and it enveloped him like a cold breeze in a summer night.

“That should get them off your back for now.” Clark suggested, breaking the eerie silence that had engulfed them both. Thinking back on it, Bruce had remained silent for the entirety of their display, save for the soft moans and breaths he’d draw. Was he really that averse to the whole experience? He was the one who convinced him to make _it as genuine as possible_ in the first place.

Bruce’s hand cupped Clark’s padded kneecap for support, grazing the material with his fingers like he was shyly holding back his thoughts. Clark let him stay like that, until he felt his fixed gaze on him, unperturbed and curious. He leaned in closer, his hands pulling back the cowl and meeting the eyes of the man underneath the façade. The night’s starry sky reflected in them, blinking slowly, waiting for his next move.

His hand moved from his knee to the front of the cape, tugging gently, his hands moving around his chest and stopping at the bat symbol.

“It looks good on you.” He finally spoke, his voice reminiscent of sweetness and longing. “ _Can I kiss you, Clark_?”

He hesitated for a moment, eyes focused on Bruce’s parted lips inviting him in. This could be a mistake, this was _definitely a_ mistake but he couldn’t get himself to say no. To refuse the warmth of the lips he was kissing so fervently a few minutes ago.

Instead of replying, Clark tilted his head to the side to meet Bruce’s saccharine grin and steal the kiss that was offered to him, in a swift move. His one hand was clutching him tightly, and the other was desperately trying to keep them both on the rickety ceramic tiles.

“Let go..” Bruce whispered between kisses.

“ _What?_ ” Clark sounded intoxicated, the heady smell of Bruce’s cologne mixed with his sweat making his head spin in a twirl.

“ _Let go_ , or we’ll slide off” He snorted “You can _fly_ you idiot.”

Clark clicked his tongue at the use of language but soon took solace in the way Bruce’s heart beat as they both glided in the air effortlessly. He held him closer till they reached the ground, Clark’s feet meeting with the freshly chopped grass first, Bruce coming second.

“Let’s not do that again.” Clark proposed, his hands fixing any stray strands of hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“You look fine..” Bruce’s hands stopped on Clark’s gloved ones. “You look just fine to me.”

Clark always believed Bruce was a man of few words, and now he could tell why. Five words could get the message across just fine.

“When did this…Bruce how long..” his voice tailed off, trying to put two and two together.

“As long as we’ve known each other.”

That seemed to light the lightbulb in his head, the goofy grin Bruce was talking about threatening to permanently stay on his face.

“I..feel the same. I’ve always felt the same.” Clark confessed with his newfound courage.

“I know. Why do you think I chose you for this?”

“It wasn’t because…I matched your built?”

“ _Kent._ ” He stressed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Truly a shame his affections were going to waste on a large lump of muscles and smiles. “I take it on Krypton you consider ‘daft as a brush’ a compliment?”

“Mmm let me think” he pretended to think while rubbing his chin pensively “Only when it comes from our loved ones. “

“Hm..so Kansas and Krypton are one and the same after all.”

Bruce dropped the cowl on his face, taking hold of the cape and wrapping it around him like a ball of yarn, leaving Clark a confused and tangled mess.

“Go get dressed. The night is young and Bruce Wayne has places to be. I may have just dropped the elusive Batman for a reporter from Smallville, _but don’t tell him that_.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a post by gotham-clickbait and partially inspired by Clark actually dressing up as him in the animated series, I bring you.........this. I love these lovebirds, get them a room.  
> Also excuse any typos or otherwise disturbances in my train of thought. I don't have anyone beta my fics......and I barely ever proofread properly. (that's on me sigh) (But I do read your comments and I'm grateful for the feedback!)


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